Wang Bin had a particular way of teaching arrays. He had started with simple, basic arrays, consisting only of a few lines. He then added to the arrays, little by little, making them grow more complex while making sure that the earlier knowledge was kept active and useful for understanding what the new bit was or did.
They'd started with a single line of an array, while the last one he'd given Wu Hao had been a sprawling behemoth consisting of dozens of brushstrokes, that had to be fitted across multiple sheets of paper. In fact, that was how Wang Bin had said they'd learn the technique for multi-page arrays.
Hua Lixin felt like that final array. It was as if someone had taken the best parts from Wu Hao's previous opponents and stapled them onto a single person.
He had the completeness of Su Biao, where all of his techniques worked flawlessly together. He had the defense of Ye Yue, even though he didn't actually defend that often, but he also had Ye Yue's endurance and his seeming inability to tire, as well as his unperturbed mindset whatever Wu Hao did.
And, worst of all, he had a Heaven-grade technique like Du Linglong. Wu Hao had thought that those were supposed to be impossible for third-grade martial artists like him.
It was a lot less fun being on the opposite end of an impossibility, he had discovered. It unfortunately made sense, though, because apparently Hua Lixin had been taught martial arts directly by a Sovereign, and a Sovereign could do anything.
Lacking a Sovereign, Wu Hao had to improvise.
The second time around he tried the spear again. The One-Shot Kill Art had saved him once before, so he hoped that it would again.
He just needed a little bit of time, that was all. He just needed enough time to activate the Heart Seeker, and then the Jade Orchid would be his. Everything he'd ever wanted would be his.
Hua Lixin, unfortunately, knew that as well as Wu Hao did, and didn't allow him that time. This time, Wu Hao couldn't meet his charge head-on.
Even as he'd tried to draw out all the qi he could and shove it into his spear, the thunder crackling around him as he wasted qi on converting it to the lightning attunement, Hua Lixin took a single step and arrived in a haze of fire next to Wu Hao's corner where he'd fled to.
There wasn't even much of a chance to defend himself. It was all he could do to simply hang on and try to twist his way through a block, but Hua Lixin had simply murmured the name of his technique in response.
"Wildfire Swift Sword Art: Firebrand."
His sword had cut straight through Wu Hao's spear, and that had been all for that fight. Wu Hao didn't have any techniques for two halfspears, and even if he had Hua Lixin stabbed him in the arm afterwards and the point would've been moot anyway.
After that, there wasn't much he could have done. He tried, but then Hua Lixin's sword was at his neck.
The ass hadn't even had the bravery to actually do more than pull his sword slightly when Wu Hao had tried to cut his own neck with the blade.
Tai Buzhou had sounded very, very happy that Wu Hao had lost. He was practically chortling with glee as he announced that the dark horse had been brought down. Order had been restored, presumably.
Wu Hao had killed himself with a single knife thrust into his heart again, had sat back in his chair after gasping for air, and he had brooded.
You have been killed by a suicide for the eighth time.
Now what?
The third time he had brought both saber and spear, just in case. He'd stolen several knives from the mansion and the nearby food stands until he simply lacked the space to fit more of them without making his every step issue a loud clink of metal hitting metal.
Every single one of them was inscribed with more arrays that would make them explode.
Again, though, it didn't actually help all that much.
Hua Lixin was able to counter the knives deftly, if not easily, with his swordplay. He'd evaded the explosions with a single smooth step that left a mirage of heat behind, though the bits and pieces that struck the barrier around the arena sizzled as they slid down to the ground.
Another step took him straight to Wu Hao, who'd yanked the saber from his belt and pushed more qi into it.
The sword bore down, the thunder snapped out, and he'd blocked at the last moment.
All he could manage for the rest of the fight was simply blocking, and he couldn't block all of it. Hua Lixin was simply too aggressive and his attacks surged relentlessly forward, pushing Wu Hao back until he was about to fall from the stage. It was as if a raging fire was bearing down on Wu Hao, every single attack leaving cuts and nicks and wounds on his body wherever it struck.
That was how he'd found out about Hua Lixin's endurance. His moves were extremely efficient, and unlike Wu Hao, his weapon had probably been tailormade for him and the kinds of qi he was running through it. He simply wasted less than Wu Hao did, and considering he had a larger qi reserve than Wu Hao, that meant he could afford to be that aggressive without needing to fear running out.
"Wildfire Swift Sword Art," Hua Lixin had said. "Smoldering Heat."
They clashed, again and again, and every time Hua Lixin pushed Wu Hao back further. Fire cut through a tendon in his arm leaving it to dangle uselessly at his side, his face was bloody from a cut to his scalp that he'd barely been able to duck under, and he felt the fire qi invading his veins like a poison. The sheer heat made his vision shimmer. Then there was finally nothing else except the edge of the arena and that sword tip hovering straight at Wu Hao's heart.
Again, though, it was withdrawn before it could pierce his skin.
Tai Buzhou was happier than Wu Hao had ever heard him, and the man's chattering was still ringing in his ears as he plunged his saber into his own heart. He felt it slide in and grunted - he'd used his off hand so he wasn't dead instantly. He circulated the qi to blow his head to nothingness and he slid away into the merciful darkness just as Hua Lixin turned in surprise and some woman in the audience let out a loud, high-pitched scream.
You have been killed by a suicide for the ninth time.
Wu Hao sat back in his chair again, nearly leaning over far enough that he'd fall backwards before catching himself.
The saber hadn't worked. The spear was unworkable. The knives hadn't achieved much. A combination of the above had given him worse results, which made sense - he'd never trained to switch weapons on the fly. It had been an idea, but he was going to have to discard it.
What else, then? The claw? The sword? He didn't have access to a ready-made claw and little more than a few moves of a Sky-tier art, and for the sword he had a technique of the Heaven-tier and nothing else, no treasured sword.
He tried, nonetheless, but the fourth attempt wound up even more of a disaster than the previous three.
You have been killed by a suicide for the tenth time.
Wu Hao sighed, letting his head fall to the desk instead, inexplicably exhausted. As he leant down, though, and wondered if there was something else he could try.
Then the idea came to him as if with a physical impact. Wu Hao stared at his own feet in the darkness under his desk and wanted to slap himself for being an idiot.
Arrays. He could use arrays. He had been using those already, but his idea was far more far-reaching than simply that.
It didn't have to be his own arrays. Wu Hao was currently sitting in the array grandmasters' mansion, full of some of the best arrays ever created, presumably. Why couldn't he simply use those?
If he could simply borrow one and use them in the match, then he would be fine. Considering that Hua Lixin's sword was allowed in without anyone making much of a fuss about it, Wu Hao should be able to carve one of the arrays in the mansion into his weapons. He wouldn't take the array itself - he'd just replicate it. Surely that wouldn't be an issue. He wouldn't really steal anything.
Giving the spear a look, he shook his head. It was full, leaving not enough space for one of the greater arrays. It'd be the saber, then.
Saber in hand he trotted up to the main corridor, the gallery where all of the master's works hung. They bore no description of what they did, only a small decorative plaque which stated the creator's name and affiliation and nothing else.
That was fine. Wu Hao had prepared for this, or been prepared for this, by Wang Bin. He could guess what the arrays did purely on sight. Rolling up his sleeves he breathed in deeply and began to prepare himself for the task ahead.
Half an hour later, sitting in the gallery still, he realized that his brilliant idea wasn't as smart as he'd hoped.
The first few arrays were all for defensive measures. Wards to guard property, a locating array which would siphon away just a little bit of qi of whatever it was engraved in and reveal its location by releasing a periodic, thin pulse of qi. An array that filtered any water nearby into clean, drinkable water, which Wu Hao presumed was used for sieges and the like. Or roughing it. He made a note of that last one and moved on to the others.
On and on it went. The next grouping was for arrays meant to make life just that little bit easier, like the one that allowed water to reach a given temperature almost instantly, another array meant to make carriage rides so smooth it could drive over cobble and not let its riders feel anything. After that were simply frivolous arrays: imitations of birdsong, one that could create a variety of ink from whatever substance was poured onto it, and so on.
None of them were useful, which made a frustrating kind of sense. Array masters, by and large, weren't considered as combatants. They used qi, yes, but there was a significant gap between using qi and using martial arts. They were genteel men, scholars. Scholars didn't get into fights; they hired people to do so for them.
Wu Hao threw a glance at the final door in the gallery. All of the other masters' cabins were locked, and locked tightly enough that Wu Hao didn't want to try and open those doors.
Behind that final door, though, there was no lock. That was where the grandmaster... slept? Meditated? Wu Hao wasn't sure, and no one had seen fit to tell him, either.
The point was, though, he remembered that the grandmaster was presented with every single masterwork array that was made in the mansion. In theory this was because he would signal his approval or disapproval by saying something; in practice Wu Hao was pretty sure that it just meant everyone wanted the old man to wake up from his coma and any sign of life would be very much welcome.
That meant there'd be masterworks in his room, presumably. Maybe even the grandmaster's own work.
It was worth a try.
Wu Hao got up from the floor that he'd been sitting on, grabbed his saber, and set out to explore once more.
The door to the grandmaster's room opened without a creak. The room was well-lit, arrays near the roof providing constant, even illumination running on the environmental qi and a few tails burrowed into the master's core.
Surveying the room again, Wu Hao saw the grandmaster sitting there, still, in his chair. The white piece of paper laid in front of him. If the man had moved at all since Wu Hao had first seen him months ago, then that change must have been minute enough that the dust hadn't been disturbed.
His beard was perhaps a little longer. Otherwise, nothing had changed. His qi was still orderly to the point of insanity, hundreds if not thousands of threads extending to every single corner of the room and piercing through the walls, extending into the unknown. His robes were still finer than anything else Wu Hao had ever seen, but the man's eyes were still empty.
Right. No time to stare at the elderly. If he'd wanted to do that, he'd have simply joined the Beggar's Union.
The arrays were stacked to the side. Some apprentice had probably had a task once to clean them all up. Wu Hao flipped through the first couple, finding a few copies of those he had seen before but less... theatrical. More practical, he supposed the word might have been.
One of the arrays caught his eye, though. It was an array meant to be inscribed onto a weapon, judging by the tight, constrained nature of its writing, of which he could only see half. The rest was buried under a large stack of paper. Still, this was the kind of thing he'd been looking for.
Wu Hao pulled slightly, trying to get the paper out of the stack without tearing it apart, but it came away easier than he'd expected. He didn't stumble due to his enhanced reflexes, but he felt his arms go back reflexively and butt against one of the wells of ink, which fell off the stand it'd been kept in. It cracked against the desk and broke, ink spilling everywhere.
The pure white paper on the grandmaster's desk, on which no mark had been made, which probably cost more money than Wu Hao had ever seen, began to fill up with the black ink. He stood there, feeling a distant dismay, though he also felt pity for the old man.
After all, the master's eyes were still fixed on that paper. He didn't move even as the ink spilled over the edge of the desk, didn't react at all to it splattering on his fine robes and dying his sleeves a dirty black.
Wu Hao righted the inkwell, though there was no salvaging the paper. But when every single bit of the paper was black, the lights in the room went out, the cold swept in suddenly, and Wu Hao's breath caught. Every single strand of qi twitched like a living thing.
Because the old man stirred and his qi stirred along with him. His eyes widened as if he was in the throes of some divine revelation. His hand, still poised perfectly with the brush as if to start writing, trembled. Though its fine horsehair was utterly dry, the master drew on some qi and, with an unsteady hand as if he had to relearn how to move, placed his brush in the middle of the ink.
Then, as if wielding a sword, his wrist slashed downwards. The ink was drawn away slightly, leaving a thin greyish mess that resembled a line. The master stared at it, then mumbled something under his breath.
And all of the qi that Wu Hao could sense around them went completely and utterly insane.